


London's Weather

by Kiliandra



Category: Actor RPF, Hannibal (TV) RPF
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Male Slash, Psychological Drama, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-07
Updated: 2015-10-07
Packaged: 2018-04-25 07:22:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4951597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiliandra/pseuds/Kiliandra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mads once again goes to London to meet up with a friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	London's Weather

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: The whole story was, of course, made up, and has absolutely nothing to do with reality, nor mentioned characters. The author does not know anyone he wrote about, and much to his displeasure, obviously does not own any of them.

London’s Weather.

He was pissed. The cabbie who drove him from Gatwick dragged mercilessly – a snail’s pace - so when he saw a metro station, he decided to escape the horrendous traffic jams. Of course, nothing could be simple. He wasn’t even surprised, that every time he met with Hugh, all the natural elements were against them. He wondered why torrential rains weren’t plaguing his journey as well.

As he made his way through the stale, underground corridors, he wondered about Londoners who live like rats underground, spending half of their time in the sewers. Copenhagen has its own metro, but it is so vestigial compared with the local,he shouldn’t even give it a second thought.

He spent another half hour switching from carriage to carriage, trying to arouse the least fuss among potential fans and made sure to keep his nose behind the local afternoon newspaper at all times. A few curious glances stuck to him like bur, but fortunately no one ran after him from the tube, screaming hysterically. London in this regard was for him definitely safer than Copenhagen. He hasn’t even been able to go after the rolls there so as not to arouse some sensation.

“Knackered?” The question was asked from the door, when he knocked. Mads slipped his hand through his hair, trying to get rid of intrusive locks falling into his eyes.  
“Feel like hell.” He said. Hugh smiled radiantly.  
“I have something that will bring you back to your feet.”  
“High on alcohol content I hope?” said Mads.  
“Especially for you it has been cooling the last hour.”  
“I love you,“ he said blankly and walked to the refrigerator. After a moment he realized what he’d let slip, and chose at this point not to watch Hugh’s reaction. He put his nose deeper into the refrigerator, looking for some potential snack, while reaching for a beer.

From his back pocket he took out a lighter and with a skilled, simple movement, he opened the bottle. He heard the familiar hiss of the released gas and felt the saliva flow into his mouth. He took three quick sips to soothe his craving and smiled.

“Hungry?” Another question, from his polite host. Mads shook his head.  
“I have everything I need.”  
“Everything?” Hugh feigned indignation.  
“Well, if you put it that way...”

Mads looked at his friend longingly and placed the bottle on the kitchen counter. He smirked, watching as Hugh swallowed and took a step in his direction. He leaned over him, brushing his earlobe by his nose. The familiar smell of expensive aftershave teased his senses. He had no idea whether he felt or heard Hugh delay his breathing.

“Take off your pants, Dancy.” Mads whispered in his ear. Hugh snorted and looked at him indignantly. Mads couldn’t take his eyes off Hugh’s mouth. Slightly pursed, pouting as if someone had offended a five-year-old boy. However, their color, red and moist, wasn’t associated with innocence. Long, still lashes cast a shadow on the delicate skin under his eyes and Mads knew, somewhere at the root of his own sanity, that he lost.

He could play the daredevil. He could joke about things in public. He could tell fairytales at conventions, but for a long time he knew that he has no authority over Hugh. He could not resist him, even if his life depended upon it.

“What did you say, Mikkelsen?” Hugh’s cold tone triggered the impulse of fear, making his pulse accelerate.  
“Please?” He smiled and blinked. Hugh began to laugh then, and with a flick of his fingers, undid the zip of his hoodie, grabbing Mads and pulling his body towards him. Their noses were only a few millimeters apart and the only thing Mads could see at the moment, were those damned grayish eyes that couldn’t decide whether they are green or maybe blue.

#

Why the hell, it occurred to them to kiss each other in front of cameras? Why, in the tide of stupidity, had he agreed to Dancy’s idiotic whim? They should’ve only teased Bryan, made his mouth water and forced him in that way to continue the show, despite the fact that all stations had given them up for lost. However, at the moment, when they stood on that cliff wrapped in each other’s arms, all things previously discussed ceased to be relevant: Richard lying on the ground in a puddle of fake blood; Bryan hauling the air with hiss, whispering something to the cameraman; Nothing. Neither the wind penetrating their inappropriate weather clothing, the water rustling beneath their feet, nor the sweet red goo that was sticking to them. No "cut" and no giggle somewhere in the background. For a few seconds it was just the steady beating of their hearts, Hugh’s hand on his buttock and his lips barely brushing his own. And then Mads felt the pressure on his body and flew down, completely losing the ground under his feet and not just in the literal sense. Ropes stopped them two meters over the edge of a cliff with a sharp jerk. Hugh still with his arms entwined around Mads, hung onto him as if he was afraid that his own rope wouldn’twithstand the weight. Mads felt Hugh’s lips somewhere on his own Adam’s apple.

“More.” The whisper, which he heard, seemed to him a figment of his own imagination, and once again Mads felt his pulse accelerate. People appeared above their heads immediately, and began pulling them up to take another shot.

A moment later he heard "Action!" and within a few heartbeats he was holding a small body again. Hugh’s hand on his buttock was no longer shocking, and it seemed to be exactly where it should be. Hugh’s arms wrapped around his neck.And hislips again. This time greedy, demanding, insistent. Mads felt Hugh’s tongue breachinghis mouth and groaned involuntarily. At the same time he felt a jolt and fell again. Cold air seemed to seep through him to the bone. He was unable to breathe, feeling the pinching arms of his friend around him. However, at this point he didn’t need any oxygen. His head was spinning. They were hanging over the abyss on strong ropes, and he held tight to the only real object at hand: Hugh.

His stupor was interrupted by a familiar voice. It was Bryan, screaming from above, that this was not in the script. Mads looked at him and smiled, contented.

“Fannibals will piss themselves with happiness.” He was sure that Bryan has been effectively discomposed and won’t sleep peacefully tonight.  
“We’ll repeat again, but without the kissing,” shouted Fuller from above, while crew drew them back to the cliff. Mads heard Dancy’s disgruntled snort.  
“This is the end of the show. Why not give them what they want? It's really good. I know that we were great.” Hugh looked at Bryan reproachfully.  
“ ‘Cause the fourth season won’t be an erotic trip with a knife in your hand,” said Fuller.  
“But there won’t be a fourth season at all!” Hugh seemed really angry when he spoke.  
“There will,” Came the reply with a sincere smile, imbued with the self-confidence Bryan gave them, throwing the Englishman off balance.  
“Really?,” snorted Dancy.  
“But not yet,” added the boss of all bosses.  
“Come on.” Mads put hand on his friend's shoulder. It was getting late, and quarreling with Bryan will only lengthen the shooting. Fuller chose this moment to disappear. “Let's do it canonically. You'll be fuming and he’ll fire you,” whispered Mads and winked at Hugh.  
“So, how he’ll do next season?,” Dancy's voice dripping with sarcasm.  
“You know, I'm the Hannibal here...” Mads grinned.  
“Pig,” said Hugh, but the glow that illuminated his eyes, giving them their almost blue color, disappeared.

It was then Mads realized how much Hugh wanted to kiss him again. Because it had to be the cause of all this fuss. But did Mads also want that? The thought of it seemed to be disturbing. Still, he would be lying to say that he didn’t.

But he knew that he didn’t need an alibi in the form of rolling cameras to touch Dancy.

“Let’s record this bloody scene like Bryan wants it and then go have a drink,” he suggested at last, trying to soothe the situation.  
“We are in a complete wilderness,” said Hugh.  
“And I found wine in the basement.”  
“But our plan...”  
“We'll force Bryan to add this scene on DVD.”  
“How do you plan on achieving that? Didn’t you see that he suddenly turned on the morality switch...?”  
“One only need to imply something in the next interview and you’ll see - all hell will break loose on the internet,” said Mads. Hugh's eyes flashed ominously, and he nodded in agreement.  
“So, what kind of wine is it?”  
“Red.”

##

Half an hour later they descended to the basement. The crew was still recording the last scenes to have a shot of the stormy sea surrounding the house. Hugh wiped his hands on a paper towel, trying to get rid of the excess fake blood. Mads handed him the bottle, which he uncorked a while ago.

“Are you still angry?”  
“They murdered our show!,” answered Hugh.  
“There will be another one. You don’t suffer from lack of work. Even yesterday your agent called with a new proposal.”  
“That's not the point.” Hugh quickly drank two sips and winced. “Dry.” Mads shrugged.  
“Lick your lips. You still have the fake blood on them. It’s the sugar.” Hugh snorted, hearing the words of a friend.  
“Why are you so calm? Did you get bored of it?”  
“No.” He replied a little too quickly. “I just don’t worry. Whatever will be, will be.” Mads walked over to Hugh, taking the bottle from him. He took a long sip and also winced. The wine was vile.  
“Lick your lips, maybe it will be tastier.” Hugh tried to mimic his tone and accent. Mads took another step forward and leaned in to lick Dancy’s cheek, still covered in deep red goo. Hugh jumped back and looked at him in surprise. Mads shrugged, grinning sheepishly.  
“What? I’m sweetening the wine,” said Mads, and took another sip. This time he didn’t wince, pretending he liked the atrocity. Dancy however, was not one bit interested in wine.  
“I don't want it to end.”  
“You don’t have too much say. Unless you put all your money into the next season. And I do not think, that Claire will go for it.”  
“I'm going to miss it,” admitted Hugh finally.  
“Getting up at five in the morning to the set?”  
“Evenings with a beer.”  
“Copenhagen is an hour away from London,” observed Mads.  
“Three hours.” Hugh straightened consciously, still grumpy. “This won’t be the same.”  
“No,” said Mads. Another sip of wine and he handed the bottle to Hugh. Dancy took it and sat on the floor nearby. Mads took another wine, this time a white one, from the shelf and crouched in front of Hugh. “Maybe a change?” Hugh looked at him suspiciously.  
“You try it first. If it’s better, I’ll think about it.” He said with a grimace, before he took another sip of red wine.  
“Do you trust me in matters of taste? I have a plebeian palate.”  
“I trust,” said Dancy, and Mads was not sure what he meant. Hugh suddenly chuckled under his breath. “Did you see his face after that scene? You think he was turned on by the kiss?"  
“I was, I don’t believe that Bryan wasn’t moved.” Mads took a swig from the new bottle and smiled. “This one is a lot sweeter.” He passed him the bottle, which Hugh immediately grabbed and sipped a drink. A sincere smile appeared on his lips, but a split second later, his eyes gained vigilance.  
“What does that mean, “I was”?”  
“It was unexpectedly pleasant.”  
“Pleasant like the rays of the sun on your face, or like a warm blanket on a rainy day?”  
“Like...” Mads licked his lips... “Like halva with chili.” Hugh blinked. “Tickly temptation. Sweet, when it is on the tongue. Leaving a burning palate when it disappears.” Dancy swallowed.  
“Maybe you're allergic to artificial blood.” He whispered, blushing.  
“I have never been harmed before.” Mads bit his lower lip slightly. “But it was never delivered to my mouth in such a twisted way.” Mads leaned toward Dancy and gently brought his lips to Hugh’s, giving him time to retreat. He, however, opened his mouth in response and Mads felt butterflies in his stomach at the very thought of what he intended to do. Not seeing hesitation in those shining eyes, he brushed gently the Englishman’s lips. Hugh immediately responded with an attack. Their lips in a split second were together. Mads felt a strong pressure and soon gave in, feeling tongue trying to break into his mouth. Hugh, despite his small stature, was strong and pulled him close, making Mads fall to his knees. He growled softly and pulled away from Hugh for a moment, to take off his stained sweater, throwing it into a corner.  
“What if someone walks in?” Dancy’s blue-green eyes clearly reveal his excitement.  
“You just kissed me in front of the whole team.”  
“That's different.”  
“Right.” Mads rose to a standing position and went for the door.  
“Mads!” He could hear the desperation in Hugh’s voice and Mads knew that Dancy didn’t want him to disappear. He smiled to himself, quietly closed the cellar door and turned the key in the lock.  
“You didn‘t expect me to leave now?” He immediately returned to the floor and knelt in front of his friend, sitting against the wall.  
“What now?,” asked the man.  
“Now, take off this slimy, stained shirt,” said Mads. Dancy smiled indistinctly.  
“You like me shirtless?”  
“I like you.” Mads said quietly.  
“It is all to the good, because...”  
“Shut up, Dancy,” said Mads and kissed him. Hugh's hands immediately went to his buttocks.  
“Take off your pants, Mikkelsen.”  
“And where is “please”?”  
“Please, do it quickly,” said the Englishman, kissing him again.

##

“Are you worried?” The quiet voice of his friend tore him violently from this little cloud of pleasant memories, about the beginning of this madness, which he couldn’t even properly classify. Gray eyes stared at him intently, as if Dancy feared that he had done something wrong.

“What have you done with Claire?,” asked Mads.  
“I killed her and ate her,” Hugh snorted, stepping back. But then he said: “She went for a few days to Liverpool. What about Hanne? She thinks that you are where?  
“In London at Dancy's.” Hugh narrowed his eyes, waiting for an explanation. “I have a photo session tomorrow afternoon. Why should I sleep in a hotel, when she knows that you will lodge me here? It’s no use to lie.”  
“You told her everything?” Mads laughed when he heard the question.  
“Of course,” he sneered. “With details. She asked for photos of your naked ass.” Hugh snorted, and crossed his arms. “I understand, however, that I need to pack my toothbrush, as I will be leaving?”  
“Better, yes. I didn’t tell Claire that you’d be popping over.”  
“You would choke, if you did. She would immediately guess that you're hiding something. That’s completely pointless, I think. What are the chances that she will hit on the idea that there’s something between us?”  
“I'd rather be safe than sorry. I'm not gonna wrangle with her later in court for custody of our child,” said the Englishman. Mads took a sip of beer.  
“Fortunately mine are older and could choose with who they want to be, if Hanne wishes to divorce.”  
“You really think it's that simple?”  
“You English are awfully tense,” he said, “these fastened buttons and ironed shirts of yours,” trying to ease the tension.  
“If in a moment, you say "it's just sex", you'll be sleeping at the train station,” said Hugh. Mads laughed and his fingers brushed the gray fabric of his friend’s shirt.  
“You have me for a fool. I don’t crouch every time I heard the word "sex", but it doesn’t mean that our relationship is not important,” said Mads and simply pulled Dancy in and kissed him. Gray-blue eyes stared at him intently all the time and Mads felt the excitement welling up in him, which he was unable to control any longer. Hugh slowly loosened up, and his anxiety and tension disappeared. Mads knew he could break the kiss, when Hugh finally closed his eyes and Dancy’s arms entwined his waist.

He sighed with relief. Their meetings were difficult enough. They didn’t have to provide any additional emotional dramas. Not when everything had already been explained for a long time. He didn’t have to lie to Hugh, that everything would be fine, and the world will sprinkle them with petals of red roses. They both knew perfectly well, that they do not depart into the sunset on a rainbow unicorn. Neither of them intended to divorce, nor destroy their well-arranged lives. They have fulfilled the first curiosity, but fascination with sex quickly turned into guilt, which was hard to fight.

Of course, weekends spent together from time to time, added a pleasant thrill to their lives. Mads was, however, confident that he would not change a firm relationship in which he was for the last twenty years, for a temporary stimulus, even if the stimulus was Hugh. Especially, that recently they spent more time as friends than lovers. That did not mean, however, that he would give up this pleasant entertainment that sex was, especially since he had Hugh right under his nose.

“Do you want to eat something?,” Dancy finally asked, trying to disentangle himself from his shoulders. Mads did not intend to release him this time.  
“I do not mind an English breakfast.” Mads smiled and reached for the bottle of beer behind Hugh’s back. He took a sip then kissed the Englishman again. “But if it’s already too late for breakfast, I will be tempted for dessert.”

##

He was lying on his stomach in the rumpled bedclothes, gasping for breath. Drops of sweat still streaming down his spine, and his hand lazily resting on the skinny abdomen of the Englishman. He closed his eyes, listening to the ragged breath of a friend. The word "lover" still did not want to pass from his lips, nor make themselves at home in his mind. Lovers were, in his opinion creatures, which one could use for their own benefits, captivated to fulfill one’s desires and abandoned in brief moment when they began to be troublesome. Lovers were creatures that could ruin a man's life, if you let them do so.

Hugh was not his lover. He was a friend. A man with whom Mads chatted with for hundreds of hours, drank a sea of beer and discussed all - his own and Hugh’s - existential problems, before it even occurred to him that his smile is quite charming. That day on the set, even though it began very innocently, quickly turned into a very tumultuous relationship, the temperature of which regularly rose by sex. Perhaps it was naive, still believing that after what happened between them in recent weeks, they would be able one day to just sit together in the pub, drink beer and don’t want to kiss each other. Mads still considered himself reasonable, but how their friendship evolved, completely broke down his inner peace and now it would be hard for him to even bear the thought of leaving the Englishman’s lips and hands. Though he stubbornly repeated to himself that he can do it anytime.

“I got the role in new show,” said Hugh finally.  
“That's great.”  
“In the US,” added Dancy.

The only thing that came at this point to Mads’ mind was "oh", which for obvious reasons, he didn’t intend to articulate. This meant that they will not see each other for a long time, if the show succeeds. It would be idiotic to wish him a flop, but at this time he was unable to think otherwise. He wanted Hugh to live in London, not on the other side of the globe. Explanations for visits in the US to Hanne would be at least embarrassing. He also did not intend to look for his roles across the ocean on purpose, to have an excuse to see Hugh. He reached for a pack of cigarettes and lighter from his back pocket. Claire did not allow smoking, even in the living room, and Mads felt that this little gesture of rebellion against her principles will be adequate at this moment.

“Are you mad?” Hugh said after a while, watching as Mads very slowly blows the smoke from a cigarette.  
“No. I just don’t know what to say.” He leaned against the headrest and brushed his hair from his forehead. “It's good for your career. After three years with Bryan, something else would be useful to both of us. Even if one day he’ll actually resurrect Hannibal, we can’t wait for him. And Claire will be at home. You’ve always said that she prefers New York to London.  
“If I hear about something for you, I’ll let you know immediately.” The guilt was clear in Hugh’s voice.  
“My agent does a good job with finding me work. Besides, now I want to do something locally.”  
“Very locally: Marvel and Star Wars,” Hugh snorted.  
“Are you mad?”  
“No,” said Dancy and went quiet. Mads gave him a smoldering cigarette and Hugh inhaled deeply. “I don’t know,” he whispered at last.  
“Can I help you somehow?” Mads inhaled again and exhaled smoke toward his friend. He did not want to live in the US without a good reason. If Hugh had asked him, would he be willing to go? He hoped he’ll never hear this kind of request.  
“I thought I'd find something here. But they wanted to give me some average spectacle,” said Dancy and his face testified clearly that he doesn’t feel good about his decision to leave. Mads puffed a final time and threw a half-burnt cigarette into an empty bottle of beer. He rolled over and enfolded Hugh in his arms, burying his nose in the Englishman’s collarbone.  
“You have to go forward,” he whispered. “It's... whatever it is, it can’t hold us down.”  
“Now, I want to quote your damn character. Use some pathetic text of your doctor.”  
“Come on. You won’t turn your life upside down for a bit of sex,” said Mads and felt Hugh’s fingers grabbing his arms, almost scratching them.  
“It's not about sex.”  
“I know,” he whispered. He was consumed with curiosity, what Hugh really meant, but instinct told him to retreat from this discussion. Of course, Hugh wasn’t indifferent to him, but as far as Mads went along with his own emotions, he would rather not to dig deeper into Dancy’s feelings. This could completely destroy the relative calm, which he managed to develop over the past few weeks. Mads gently kissed Hugh’s neck and closed his eyes. He felt the desperate pounding of Hugh’s heart under his hand. He heard swallowing, but Hugh did not say a word.

Mads felt terribly guilty. Currently he wanted to promise wonders, mountains of gold, transfer to the United States and live like a nomad, away from the burned bridges that they will leave behind. Some stupid confession was on the tip of his tongue. But scraps of reason closed his mouth. He was laying, nestled in his lover, feeling like he was doing something terribly wrong being mute. As if he was betraying their friendship and trust, concealing his own need to have him close.

He stared at the lights outside the window, listened as Hugh’s breath slows down. From time to time he felt the gentle brush of his fingers on his own shoulder, until Dancy completely relaxed and fell asleep. Mads inhaled his scent, wanting to remember it for long enough, to take it with him to Denmark.

His first betrayal. He was sure that it will be the last, however it will end. He would not bear the stress, separation, pretending and lies again. But the very thought, that Hanne would find out about it, that he would have to look in his kids’ eyes, made him sick. He could imagine Viola’s question: "Do you love him at least?" He closed his eyes. He did. That's what a man feels for friends if they are real. And they became friends a long time ago, and even then, he would do so very much for Hugh. So why let him go and allow to move out to New York? That proverb about loving, letting go, returns and such nonsense had nothing to do with him. He wished him the best, and if that meant his disappearance, he will have to endure. He could not act like an egoist, asking him to stay. What could he give in return?

He gritted his teeth, trying not to fall to pieces. Old idiot.

“What are you thinking about?” Quiet question came to his ears.  
“About You.”  
Dancy turned and looked straight at him.  
“Stop it,” said Hugh.  
“I can’t.” Mads closed his eyes. Looking into the gray-green irises was painful.  
“You said...”  
“Shut up, Hugh.” He wasn’t able to think soberly right now.  
Mads felt a mouth on his lips. Strong fingers dug into his hair, holding down his head, so he would not escape. A big, heavy ball of fear formed in his stomach, causing nausea. At the same time he felt despair in every gesture and every touch of the Englishman, it felt like fire on his skin. He did not want to leave him and he was certain, that Hugh didn’t want to either.

His return flight will be in less than forty-six hours, and five of them he will waste on a stupid photo session. He wanted to send a text to his agent, telling him that he is sick and has to postpone it... or cancel. He knew, that for the next few weeks he won’t want to come back to London. Why would he do that if Hugh won’t be there?

He felt Dancy’s hand on his buttock, but the gesture wasn’t pleasant. He didn’t want sex. He wanted something more he couldn’t even name. And he knew that even if he could, he would never ask for it. Mads took Hugh’s hand from his ass and pulled it to his face. Gently, he kissed Dancy’s palm and closed his eyes again. Hugh inhaled sharply and buried his face in Mads’ shoulder. Mads missed the curls, which he could grab. The Englishman cropped hair tickled his nose.

“It should be easy. Should stay this way,” whispered the younger man, reproach in his voice.  
“I can go to the hotel,” said Mads, realizing that he wasn’t the only one who felt pain at the moment.  
“No. I can’t afford to lose even one second,” protested Dancy.  
“Will you follow me when I go to pee?,” he joked.  
“Yes,” said Hugh. The gray eyes were not amused. Reddened whites of his eyes caused those irises to now seem intensely green.  
He wanted to tell him, once again, to shut up, but he knew that silence will not lead them anywhere.  
“I do not want to lose you.” Hugh closed his eyes when he spoke.  
“You won’t.” Mads tried to calm him.  
“But I feel like I'm melting. Like you are disappearing, even though you're lying next to me. As if I have had never meet you. And I need you in my life. Not only our friendship, but all of it. Since it started, I feel complete. Who I will be, when you disappear?”  
“I will not disappear.”  
“How do you know?”  
“Because I love you. Because I don’t want to lose our intimacy. Because this new show, will end one day. Because sooner or later, our paths will cross again. Because Bryan is still looking for sponsors for the next season. Because I'll throw aside everything to become Hannibal once again, who’ll have Will at his side. Because we can talk to each other, whenever we feel the need for it. I may not be able to kiss you once a week, but you won’t disappear from my mind just because you’ll live four thousand miles away.”  
“You love me?”  
“Did you hear anything I said, except for the first sentence?,” Mads raised his eyebrows. Hugh bit his lower lip, trying not to smile and shook his head in denial.  
“Will you wait for me? Until I come back? Because I will.” Big puppy eyes looked at Mads and he grinned.  
“I'll wait. What else would I do?,” he laughed softly.  
“I'll miss, because I do too.”  
“You will also wait?,” asked Mads, confused.  
“I love you, you idiot. I love you too.”

##

He had to walk over. The interview went badly. The director had some unrealistic ideas and Mads definitely didn’t want to get involved in this disgustingly romantic comedy. He agreed to talk to him, just because he promised Hanne. He will find himself a job somewhere closer than Sri Lanka. Well, he will have to say to her, that he leaves once again for this shithole, where there won’t be even the slightest internet connection.

“Have you got a light?” The question was asked in Danish. He stopped dead in his tracks. He'd know that voice and stubborn British accent anywhere. He turned very slowly, clenching his jaw. They haven’t seen each other for how long? Four? Five months?

136 days.

The gray eyes looked at him with admiration. Too many times he has seen this look, so typical from the fans, so he was able to recognize it without fail. On the mouth of the man in front of him quivered a smile of contentment, which he didn’t even try to hide. Mads reached into his back pocket for the lighter and handed it to the Englishman. He took it from him and grinned.

“And a fag too.” He said again in Danish.  
“Your accent is terrible, Dancy.” He dug out of his pocket a pack of fags, giving them to the man. He pulled out a cigarette, set it alight and, inhaling very slowly, squinting his eyes, he then put both Mads' cigarettes and lighter in the pocket of his dark blue coat. He adjusted his collar that covered the back of his neck and half his face, and looked at Mads with a mischievous twinkle in his eye.  
“Good to see you too. Fancy a beer?,” he asked. Mads shrugged. Hugh nodded, giving him a wordless sign to follow him. Mads set right his black hood and followed the Englishman.  
“I tried to call you for last three weeks.” Mads heard a voice full of resentment.  
“I had no reception.”  
“And Claire's pregnancy had nothing to do with it?,” Hugh asked immediately. Mads stopped in mid-stride. Of course, it had!  
“I'd rather hear it from you, not read about it in some rag.”  
“It doesn’t matter anyway. There is no pregnancy.” Hugh clenched his jaw. Mads looked at him with concern. Suddenly all the rage flew away completely. Hugh was shattered.  
“How far to this pub?,” Mads asked immediately.  
“Around the corner.” Hugh nodded in the direction of another block. Mads wanted to hug him. He wanted to whisper into his ear that everything would be fine. That the pain would disappear. That he can count on him.  
“How did you know I'd be here?,” he asked. Hugh shrugged.  
“A colleague,” said Dancy enigmatically.

Hugh had to ask about him. He had to contact the agency to draw out information from them that Mads will take part in this audition today. Considering the horrible downpour, he had to be very determined to stand at the agency, and then toddle behind him across flowing streams in the pouring rain of London.

Another few steps and Hugh stood at the Bubbledogs. Dancy opened the door for Mads and waited for him to come inside, as if he feared that Mads would have fled if Hugh let him out of his sight. When he finally sat down at the table in the corner, Mads saw the whole bar, including the entrance. Dancy sat down with his back to the door, putting in front of them two pints of beer. He wiped drop of water running down his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Did Bryan call you?,” he asked immediately.  
“He sent me an email a week ago, that he has another diabolical plan to raise money. But he won’t figure anything out before 2017. Do you know something else?,” asked Mads.  
“Unfortunately not. Although, he is still planning next season. He asked me recently if I would be willing to take part in a nude scene in the shower. We would be dripping with blood.” Hugh smiled whilst saying these words. Mads laughed and took a sip of beer.  
“He's worse than Fannibals. Think. If one scene over a cliff made bloody pulp of his brain, imagine what impact would it be, if he was aware of what happened next.” Dancy blushed slightly and took a sip of beer.  
“How long will you be here?” He asked.  
“I'm going back to Copenhagen in the morning.” Hugh nodded when he heard the answer. He looked up with a gleam in his eyes for Mads and again reached for his mug. He closed his eyes and drank ¾ of its contents. Mads looked at him in surprise. Hugh licked his lips and smirked. Mads pulse quickened considerably when he saw a familiar glint and the Englishman’s expanding pupils.  
“So, drink this beer faster, Mr. Mikkelsen, because we have very little time till morning,” whispered Dancy, looking into Mads’ eyes. He gulped, and without looking at his own beer mug, he stood up, reaching for a jacket hanging on the back of a chair. He walked toward the exit, in the meantime putting on the jacket, even though it was terribly wet. He threw twenty pounds on the counter, not even looking at the bartender and went outside. He looked around for a taxi, but nothing resembling a small, black car was driving through this narrow street.  
“Mads?” He heard a faint bell, when the bar door opened behind him. Hugh struggled in the doorway, trying to fasten his coat buttons. He looked puzzled.  
“Come on, princess, I'm taking you to my hotel. You must remove these wet clothes.”

Hugh looked up. His face broke into a sincere, warm smile. Suddenly he abandoned the idea of combat with clothing and simply nodded, pointing to some indeterminate direction. He raised the collar and shoved his hands in his pockets then started walking. Mads immediately followed. Heavy drops of rain fell on his head, running down his face and neck, soaking up shirt. He smiled to himself, satisfied. He should have seen it coming. He should felt it in his bones. In the end, each time when he met with Hugh, all the natural elements were against them.

**Author's Note:**

> Author's Note:  
> A huuuge thanks to Rigel99 for take on the challenge and become my beta reader.  
> I hope that this text is now bearable for ppl who speak English more fluently than I am. :)


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